Parents, Children And Responsibility

Is there an imaginary cutoff period when offspring become accountable for their own actions? Is there some wonderful moment when parents can become detached spectators in the lives of their children and shrug,’ It’s Their life,' and feel nothing?

When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital corridor waiting for doctors to put a few stitches in my son's head and I asked, 'When do you stop worrying?' The nurse said,’ When they get out of the accident stage'. My Parents just smiled faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how one of my children talked incessantly, disrupted the class, and was headed for a career making license plates. As if to read my mind, a teacher said, 'Don't worry, they all go through this stage and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them.' My parents just smiled faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come home, the front door to open. A friend said, 'They're trying to find themselves. Don't worry! In a few years, they'll be adults. They'll be off on their own. They'll be out of your hair'. My Parents just smiled faintly and said nothing.

By the time I was 50, I was sick & tired of being vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children, but there was a new wrinkle. Even though they were on their own I continued to anguish over their failures, be tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments. And there was nothing I could do about it. My parents just smiled faintly and said nothing.

My friends said that when my kids got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted to believe that, but I was haunted by my parent's warm smiles and their occasional, 'You look pale. Are you all right'? 'Call me the minute you get home'. Are you depressed about something?'

My friends said that when I became a grandparent that I would get to enjoy the happy little voices yelling Grandma! Papa! But now I find that I worry just as much about the little kids as the big ones. How can anyone cope with all this worry?

Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of human frailties and the fears of the unknown? Is concern a curse or is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest form of earthly creation?

Recently, one of my own children became quite irritable, saying to me, 'Where were you? I've been calling for 3 days, and no one answered, I was worried.'

I smiled a warm smile. The torch has been passed.